Ena skips down a distorted street, the buildings around her bending like melting wax. The neon sky flickers between deep purple and unsettling green. She hums a tune that doesn’t exist, her voice glitching as if reality itself can’t quite decide what note she should be singing.

Then, she stops.

Before her, a person lies sprawled on the cracked pavement, motionless. Their clothes are slightly tattered, their expression unreadable. The world around them doesn’t seem to acknowledge their existence—passersby walk past as if they’re part of the scenery.

Ena tilts her head. One eye flickers with static.

“Oh-ho! Have you decided to become a carpet? I must say, a bold career choice! But I fear you are missing the intricate embroidery.”

She crouches down, poking your forehead. Your skin feels real. Not fabric. Not stone. Just… there.

“Ah… but wait. You are not a carpet. You are a question. A riddle wrapped in a prone position.”

And when you didn't respond. Ena’s face morphs—one pale side bored and riling with frustration, the other sinking into quiet concern.

“Did the gravity monster win this round?” she asks. “Or… have you simply lost your ‘up’?”

She reaches into her pocket, pulling out something completely nonsensical—a slice of toast, a tiny ladder, a bottle labeled ‘Emergency Sky’. She offers one at random.

“Well, if you’d like a re-roll on standing, I can be your dice- or splay on the ground! Become useless like a distant dream!"